Story of good over evil...

Holi is on March 8th this year. It has always been my least favourite Indian festival/holiday. Growing up, I dreaded Holi. As Holi would approach, I would start retreating into my shell. I would make excuses the day off on why I was staying in my room and not coming out. I would refuse to meet, greet, or play with anyone including family, friends, cousins, neighbours, uncles, aunties, and strangers! I realized early on that Holi was one festival where an individual's choices - at least mine - were not respected. A healthy dosage of patriarchy meant I was forced into activities that made me uncomfortable but I had to adhere to them because it was Holi. 

I had significant trauma associated with Holi that mostly revolved around: 

• strangers throwing colour or water balloons at me and then saying, don't feel bad, it's Holi. As if, Holi gave them the right to do whatever they wanted to do to the other person. 

• people putting colour on my body and touching me when I didn't want to be touched. And when I asked them not to, the response was, don't feel bad, it's Holi. As if, Holi meant they could do whatever they wanted, whether I liked it or not. 

• loud sounds (like drumming) that would scare me. I remember spending many Holis locked up in the farthest corner of the bathroom because it seemed like I could never get far enough from the loud noises, loud people, or loud situations.

• being constantly scared and searching for safety (mostly emotional and psychological) because of all the angst and nervousness I would build up leading up to the festival. 

In fact, I met my husband for the first time on Holi in 2002. And the memory he has of me from that day is of me telling him not to come near me with colours. I made it very clear that I would not engage in playing Holi and would leave if anyone came as much as within 10 feet of me with colours. 

Cut to 2008 and I was suddenly very excited to celebrate Holi. I cooked traditional food associated with Holi, I went out and bought colours, I bought water guns, I bought water balloons - the whole nine yards, basically. And that too to celebrate Holi during the month of March - which in Chicago was still a cold month (as compared to India when it starts to warm up in March). It took everyone by surprise - my husband, my friends, my cousins, my parents, my brother, EVERYONE! My husband couldn't quite understand what had changed that caused me to be so excited about a festival that I had basically hated all my life. So, I reflected with him and here's what had changed: 

• I was celebrating the holiday on my terms. This meant that I could control who was putting colour on me and who was not. 

• I could decide how long I wanted to celebrate. It did not have to be a never-ending, all-day celebration. 

• I could decide how loud it could get. I have been scared of loud noises since I was born. In fact, loud noises would scare me so much that I would shake uncontrollably and my parents had to hug me as tightly as they could or I would get an epileptic attack. 

• I could decide what aspects of the festival I wanted to celebrate. Anything that made me uncomfortable, I could simply not engage in it. I did not have to follow a prescriptive script on how to celebrate Holi. 

You get the drift. I was in control. And when I was in control, this did not have to be a trauma-inducing holiday. 

Today, I especially like celebrating the holiday with my niece and nephew so I can share Indian culture and traditions with them. Their colourful, happy faces are a reminder that when you overcome trauma, even the things you hated before can be joyful. 

How have you turned a formerly traumatic situation into a thing of joy? Have you? Can you?